


This is impossible. . . he's a civilian - and my husband!

by nightsisterkaris



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Detectives, F/M, Idiots in Love, Married Couple, So Married, Spies & Secret Agents, Surprises, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsisterkaris/pseuds/nightsisterkaris
Summary: Memorizing and analyzing each person in a mathematical and effective manner, Melinda was half-way done when she almost dropped her glass.There stood here husband, Phil Coulson, in the corner, chatting with some of Mark's friends.Struggling not to freak out, like - WHY WAS HER DOCILE, CUTE, PEOPLE-FRIENDLY, HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER OF A HUSBAND HERE AT A ILLEGAL ARMS DEALER'S HOME?!?!?! - but that was just the first of it.Then they spotted each other.





	This is impossible. . . he's a civilian - and my husband!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where May is a Spy/Detective, and her husband, a civilian, crashes her mission in the most shocking way, with a little dash of possessive Phil added in for good measure.

 

  "Agent Melinda May." her boss nodded. "We have a mission for you."

  "Yes sir." May straitened, taking off her civilian clothing to reveal her normal leather SHIELD uniform underneath. **('SHIELD' stood for _S_ ecurity of _H_ omeland _I_ nternational _E_ spionage and _L_ egal _D_ istrict.)**

   "I need you to infiltrate a party that will be hosted at a possible illegal arms dealer's home." Fury said. "It is this evening at seven. I'm sorry we weren't able to give you more of a heads-up, but we only got intel this morning." 

   "Sir, what will I tell my husband?" May asked.

   "What?"

   "We have a date tonight," May told him, "eight o'clock at a restaurant downtown." 

   "Maybe he will understand." Fury said. "Tell him work kept you late."

   "My husband doesn't know that I work for SHIELD, sir."

   "And we want to keep it that way." Fury squinted. "And Agent May?" He called as she prepared to excuse herself. "Your usual partner, Agent Johnson, was unable to come tonight. We will be replacing her with another agent."

   "Who?" May asked.

   "You will know he's your partner when you see him." Fury informed her. "He will be given a communication watch as well."

   "Yes, sir." May nodded, and her phone vibrated in her pocket. "Excuse me?" she sighed apologetically and left the office to take the call.

   "Phil?" She answered.

   "Hey, babe." He sighed on the other end. "I am. So.  _Very. Sorry_."

   "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Melinda frowned.

   "We have to cancel dinner tonight. Boss isn't letting me go. He had some extra work for me." Phil sighed again.

   "Oh." Melinda shook her head. "I, uh, was actually going to call you for the exact same reason." Melinda bit her lip. 

   There was quiet on the other end.

   "Well, I guess that tonight's date just wasn't meant to be." Phil lightly laughed.

   "I guess so." Melinda echoed. "I love you."

   " 'Love you too, Mel." He said as they hung up.

**\--- -:x:- ---**

 

   Driving up to the ominous house in the woods, Melinda checked over her fake ID again.  _'Heidi Martin, Owner of one of the largest illegal gun factories in the country (And a generous sponsor, if given enough persuasion)'_

    _Let's do this,_  Melinda thought as she straitened the Designer jacket tied around her waist, giving her a look that screamed,  _"I dress expensive but I really don't give a crap about anything"._

   Knocking on the door and passing her ID to the buff dude at the door, Melinda sauntered in.

   Several men in the room were quick to pick her out, scanning her body with easily spent interest. Melinda gave them a flash of her wedding ring, pleased with the immediate disappointment.

   There was a bar in the corner. Why someone would have a bar in their foyer in the first place, Melinda didn't know. But she did see the potential target.

   "Ah, Mister Mark." Melinda smiled, walking over. Her watch buzzed. Her mystery partner was nearby.

   "You must be Mrs Martin. May I call you Heidi?" He turned, sporting a grin with several chipped and missing teeth. He wore a Brown leather jacket, a polo shirt, and jeans. Not the kind of man you would immediately pick out as an illegal arms dealer as you passed him down the street.

   "You may." Melinda smiled again.

   "Heidi, you here with an offer?"

   "I have three hundred AR-15's, Nineteen hundred Smith & Wessons, forty-five M1-16's, and Five airsoft guns." Melinda rattled off.

   "Airsoft guns?" Mark raised an amused eyebrow.

   "Yeah. They're great for child-discipline." Melinda smirked.

   Mark howled with laughter. "And you're charging $210 for the AR's?"

   "$300." Melinda corrected. " _Apiece._ "

   "I'll give you $250."

   "$280." Melinda bargained.

   "$275." Mark squinted. "I'm not going any lower." he warned.

   "Deal." Melinda answered in a flirtatious tone. 

   "I like this one!" Mark exclaimed, slapping Heidi Martin on the back. Then he looked up. "I'm going to go greet some more guests. Help yourself to the drinks, Heidi." He told her, ambling off.

   It would be strange for a person like she was impersonating not to accept the gift of free alcohol, so she selected a finer selection, and twisted open the cap. Pouring herself a light dose, she turned to scan her surroundings. Now to start gathering info.

   Memorizing and analyzing each person in a mathematical and effective manner, Melinda was half-way done when she almost dropped her glass.

   There stood here husband,  _Phil Coulson_ , in the corner, chatting with some of Mark's friends.

   Struggling not to freak out, like - _WHY WAS HER DOCILE, CUTE, PEOPLE-FRIENDLY, HIGH SCHOOL TEACHER OF A HUSBAND HERE AT A ILLEGAL ARMS DEALER'S HOME?!?!?!_  - but that was just the first of it. 

    Then they spotted each other.

    Locking eyes, they both stared wide-eyed until he sent her a signal;  _Work with me, please._ Melinda didn't even register the fact that he had just communicated with her using SHIELD's top secret hand motioning sign language, she was so freaked out.

   "Mr. Martin!" Mark approached the other group where Phil lounged. "Got yourself a  _hot_  wifie." 

   "She  _sure_  is." Phil smiled. "But I haven't seen her here yet, would you please excuse me?"

   "Of course!" Mark laughed. "Gotta keep her from prying eyes, huh?"

   "He gets the jist!" Phil laughed as he got up.

   "What the . . . Why are you here?" He hissed as soon as she was in earshot.

    "I'd ask the same from you." she said. "Mr.  _Martin_." 

    They slowly put things together. "That's impossible." Melinda pressed her hands to her temples. "You . . . you work . . ."

    "Part-time as a teacher." Phil finished. "I thought you managed that desk-job at the police station."

    "That's a cover." Melinda confessed. 

    "This is not possible." Phil sighed.

    "How are we both from SHIELD International Security?" Melinda blinked in shock. 

    "Damn, Fury is good at secrets." Phil is flabbergasted.

    "I'm not sure if this is the fault or the skill of us being spies that neither of us figured it out, or hid it from the other." 

    "Well, back to business,  _partner_." Phil shakes himself. "This cover shouldn't be to hard for us."

     _"Guns -the ARs- are for $275_." She feeds him info, surprised at the fact that she was able to fit into the spy role with him naturally. " _We have three hundred AR-15's, Nineteen hundred Smith & Wessons, fortyfive M1-16's, and Five airsoft guns - that I like for child discipline_." She nods, and he takes the hints, ready to continue the act on improv.

   Seperating, the two spread out. Melinda excused herself to go to the bathroom, and once inside, deployed a tiny scanning rover. Twisting open her undercover spy jewel encrusted watch, Melinda prepared to do a scan of the house for concentrated metal herself. 

   Pretty soon, she got a signal, and forwarded the call to her  _surprise!_ partner.

   Melinda waited in the hall, and pretty soon, Phil's silhouette appeared, and the two of them made their way into the home. The robot's signal guided them into a kitchen, where there was a trapdoor in the floor. "Not discreet at all." Phil huffed, picking up the rover that was repeatedly hitting itself against the door in the floor, trying to get down.

   "The Martins!" Mark slid in, and Phil stuffed the robot in his pocket.

   "Yes." Phil immediately took on a impressively realistic angry air about himself. "I'm  _discussing_ what we talked about earlier. The guns don't go for under $285." He growled pointedly at his wife.

   "Charles!" Melinda huffed, defending herself. "Mark here had a good bargain!"

   "I said no lower than $285!" He retorted angrily. "Just because he was undressing you with his eyes-"

   "Charlie! I was simply trying to-"

   "Well, it wasn't the right choice! I've told you-"

   "Don't speak to me like that!" Melinda put a scared tone in her voice that hinted at an abusive relationship - her on the receiving end.

   Phil stalked closer. "I thought we were a team." Phil was a  good actor, leaving Mark confused about what he should do about a couple arguing in his kitchen, with 'Charles' guilting 'Heidi' into doing what he wanted.

   "I, uh, why don't we work this out? It's just gun prices. I'm sure we can come to a community agreement. But. . . I'll let you two decide on a price and rejoin the party later." Mark backed out, believing that they wouldn't do anything _to_  bad in another person's kitchen.

    _Perfect._

   As soon as Mark was gone, the two set to work, Phil picking the lock in mere seconds, leaving Melinda in awe of skills she didn't know he had. Maybe if now that they both knew he was a spy, he would reveal a few more. . . (later, at home)

   Looking down the hole, the two of them glared into the dark. The rover in Phil's jacket pocket started quivering with excitement.

   "You first." Phil said.

   "Why?" Melinda asked.

   "You seem like someone who would be good at detecting booby traps."

   "I am." Melinda affirmed, impressed, then she smirked. "My boobs  _are_ quite the eye trap."

   "Shut up." Phil returned the smile. "Nobody looks at my wife's boobs except me."

    Lowering herself down the iron ladder rungs, Melinda checked each bar carefully before stepping onto it. She made it all the way down with no problems, and so Phil followed, closing the panel above them, and they turned on their phone flashlights.

    Making their way down the underground hallway -not freaky at all- they stood side-by-side. "You know, I never,  _ever_  expected to be doing this with you." Melinda said. 

   "Me neither. I guess we'll have to be the TV-worthy _'married-to-a-kickbutt-spy'_ couple now." Phil says.

   "That's true. At least you can watch me kick ass now, right?" Melinda asks with an amused look.

   "What? I can fight too!" 

   "Prove it. At home, we're sparring." Melinda smirks. "But one rule; making out is cheating."

   "Deal." Phil nods, and they finally make it to the end. 

   "What is that?" Melinda breathes as she shines her light up and down the massive metal barrel-shaped reservoir of some kind. "A still. Mark is also a brewer."

   "Kentucky bourbon. . ." Phil reads the shadowed brand on the side. " _Nice._ "

   "I thought that there were guns, ammo,  _something_." Melinda huffed in frustration. Phil took out the rover, setting it to the floor, letting the tiny magnetic wheels unfold and he sent it skittering away.

   "This is  _not_ happening." Melinda sighs again, watching the rover settle happily on the still. "This thing was supposed to help us detect  _explosives_ and metal  _guns_. Not wine-"

   "Bourbon," Phil corrected.

   "- _Bourbon_  stills." Melinda facepalms, and they both hear the clang of the trapdoor at the same time, footsteps slamming into the iron ladder, the rungs ringing out a song of potential discovery as a heavy-set person descends.

   They both exchange glances before Melinda signs,  _'Hide!'_

   "Here!" Phil hisses, pointing to a corner with his flashlight. Melinda quickly follows as they climb into the space in the wall, crumbling stone raining down and dust filling the air. Melinda only realizes how small of a space it is when she pulls a sheet of aluminum over the hole to conceal their presence.

   She is right on top of him, smushed into every possible crevice and corner, usually a position she saved for home, after a good dinner and a locked door.

   The lights outside flip on, and Marks voice comes, obviously calling to some others. "Come on! I can't bring out the 145% proof by myself!"

   Phil and Melinda both still freeze at the horror of such strong alcohol. "Holy crap." He breathes. "That's practically Everclear."

   "Aww come on." Another man comes down. And by the sounds, so do several others. "We need the good stuff to help out Heidi."

   "Nice try, Trevor. Stop treating your crotch as a charity for women in bad relationships." Someone else says. "Everyone knows  _I'm_  the one with the bigger-"

   "Just shut up and help me with this barrel." Mark shushes them, and the men obey, much to Phil and Melinda's relief, not wanting to hear any more of the revolting conversation.

   Suddenly, Phil slips, falling backward with a hushed curse.

   The men outside investigate, coming closer until Mark pulls back the aluminum, revealing the two people.

   Melinda knows she can't fake a make-out with Phil. It's pretty obvious that she is  _not_  Heidi Martin. So Melinda does what she does best in the field.

   She leaps up and punches Mark in the face. Mark reals back, clutching his jaw as he spits out a red streak and a tooth. Melinda immediately attacks, using anything and everything as a weapon. At some point, someone's knife slashes down her front. Soon, there are five men moaning in pain on the floor, three unconscious, and another standing in awed fear as melinda chokes him. 

   "What the actual- . . ." Phil stammers, hauling himself up.

   "Are you okay?" Melinda pants, dropping the deadweight of the air-starved man to the floor.

   "No!" Phil blinks.

   "What?" Melinda smirks. "You are so not good at hiding the fact that you  _can't_  fight" She tries not to laugh. 

   "I can!" He argues, still staring.

   "Oh." Melinda fold her arms in amusement. 

   "Stop it with that smirk.  _Yes_ , I'm totally turned on." He looks up at her. "Don't give me that look! I just watched my hot wife beat the crap out of nine buff guys." he stared at the knife slit in her shirt.

   "Let's get out of here." She shakes her head. "Eyes up here, Phil."

   ----- -:x:- -----

 

   Mark and the rest of his tough gang were arrested, protesting profusely as Melinda happily stood by her husband's side. "I wasn't doing anything wrong! Its just bourbon!" Mark wailed. 

   "It is illegal to distill alcohol without having either a distilled spirits permit or a federal fuel alcohol permit." Melinda told him. "It does not matter if the alcohol is for personal use only and not sold. but you were selling it, as our investigation proves."

   "You are also charged with illegal gun trade and purchase." Phil adds. "And Trevor was linked to several sex crimes."

   Mark grumbles as he is lead away.

   "Good job, Agent May, Agent Cheese." Fury regards them. "Jesus, if I'd known how good you  two worked together, I would have paired you up long ago."

   "We were already partners." Melinda smiles. "In more way than one."

   Fury's completely shocked look is more than rewarding.


End file.
